The impact of rumours
by Lanny-Sama
Summary: Rumour has it that Starscream is a sniveling coward, a grovelling traitor and a weakling, not worthy of the title of an Air commander. An Autobot footsoldier is faced with a cruel reminder that rumours are not the truth.


THE IMPACT OF RUMOURS

THE IMPACT OF RUMOURS

"-only had to pull out my weapon and he was already cowering! Not a shot fired, but oh man, he looked about ready to go into stasis from fear! And would you believe it? H-his voice went even _higher _when he started begging!" The soldiers at the table laughed, and a few half-filled cubes of high-grade clattered to the ground. The atmosphere was as relaxed as it could get during a war, footsoldiers, warheroes and officers alike sitting mixed in the open hall, taking their share of some recently acquired high grade.

Ricket was laughing even as Smokescreen continued another selection of his 'Starscream chronicles'. This- these were the best moments. His systems were nearing overcharge from the high grade energon, his fellow soldiers had come away unscathed from the last battle, their storage rooms were fuller than ever, and Smokescreen was telling stories!

"I'm sure you remember- that one time-" The young autobot hiccupped and some highgrade hung in the corner of his mouth. "Right Arcee? Starscream trying to be smart- runs i-into a base full with autobots and-... and..." Smokescreen wobbled in his seat and fell over with a thunk, eliciting another bout of drunken laughs from the table. Arcee got up from her seat, lightly swaying back and fro, and pulled Smokescreen up by his arms.

"You've had enough rookie, I'm bringing you to a berth..." Smokescreen groaned and leaned heavily on her, and the overcharged soldiers whistled after them. Ricket sighed happily and took another gulp of his drink. There was still room in his tank for some more high grade. Joining the Autobots was turning out to be the best decision he had made. His beautiful Mechyn and their sparklings were safe- they got good rations, the Autobots were friendly, and being a soldier sure beat being an unarmed mechanic in this war.

The hall was beginning to quiet down. Quite a few mech were already in stasis from the overcharge, hanging haphazardly over their empty cubes. Ricket simply sat and dozed until a cerulean bot collapsed in the seat next to him, and Ricket smiled. "Hey, Grunch."

His best friend waved lazily and took a long gulp of his energon. "You nervous?"

Ricket hummed by way of an answer and played a bit with the cube standing on the table. "Nah- it's probably the high-grade talking, but man, we can take the Cons. I mean- this is the winning team. Prime's just too soft to t-take them all down, b-bu we can do it." Grunch stared into his energon cube as if wondering why it was so empty, and Ricket continued. "You ever hear the amount of times they got th'... the Con's air commander's life in their hands? We... we're gonna win." Grunch snorted and laughed.

"Heh! Too right- too right." Ricket received a good natured slap on the back, and fell with his face onto the table. He was too tired to try and lift his head, and tried to absorb coolness of the table into his overcharged processor. Mechyn would probably be pissed if he slept in the rec hall, but he simply couldn't get himself to move. He would worry about things tomorrow. Grunch pulled him upright and Ricket leant against his friend. "Let's get you to a berth..." He hummed in return, and let his friend lead him to his quarters, where his Mechyn was waiting for him... He would worry about the battle tomorrow...

The next day he was standing in a dense forest with his servos around a weapon and his systems working at maximum efficiency. That didn't say much with how his frame was built, but it was all he had. He was in the middle of a full blown battle over some spot in a forest- there hadn't been much time to elaborate to the footsoldiers. But Optimus Prime himself was there- so there was no doubt in anyone's mind; this was an important mission.

Ricket shot at a few decepticons in the distance, hoping for his weapon to he accurate enough to hit at least one of them, and hoping that he wouldn't have to see it if he did actually hit one. He quickly dove away behind the little hill in the landscape before the Decepticon goons could return fire, and he let his blaster cool down. Grunch was cursing over his blaster, prying bits of sand and dirt from the machine. Ricket had told him that it was not smart to go for a mid-dive gunning spree, but Grunch was really just a sparkling at his core.

The sudden hissing roar of a fighter jet had him looking up. For a moment his spark clenched in fear: were they going to be bombed? Acid dropped on their helms?

But then he saw the jet in question. The biggest ego and doormat of cybertron and beyond; Starscream. There was nothing to fear about him. Ricket had half a humorous comment ready to throw at the Decepticon officer, but the words died in his mouth as his best friend suddenly reeled backwards with a scorching hole through his chest. Starscream stood over the mech's frame.

The air commander didn't linger a single moment on his kill, and he dove for the mech that stood next to Grunch, covered in his ally's energon. Ricket heard a horrid ripping sound, and a second soldier fell. The mech's screech had been a short, distorted burst of static before his spark had extinguished. Brinchfuel- his name had been Brinchfuel.

Starscream was quick- quicker than the stories made him seem- he almost didn't need a jet mode with the way he moved over the obstacles on the battlefield. Sharp talons dug into chestplates and ripped out wiring like it was made from organic tissue instead of Cybetronian metal, and his shots did not miss their mark. He danced around the erratic trees of the earth forest like he had known them all his life, and he_ killed_.

Ricket's gun was trying to slip from his servos as he took aim at the Decepticon commander. He watched through the visor of his blaster as Starscream drove his claws through the helm of one of his fellow soldiers. The poor mech had a few agonising kliks to break his voicebox before the deadly claws reached his processor and permanently offlined him. Ricket found that his servos could no longer hold the gun up. Air commander Starscream pulled his claw from the twitching soldier with flair. A small splash of energon was whipped in Ricket's direction and hit the trees with a sickening splatter. And during his massacre, the Con was sneering and mocking in that horrible shrill voice. Any notion of begging or pleading suddenly seemed so improbably to come from the commander.

It was only when the sound of gunfire seemed miles away that Ricket realised that his squadron had been cut down to one last standing member- himself. He could hear Platewrench twitching in the earth soil, having lost of control over his motion systems. Starscream was mocking the dying soldier, kicking him in his side again and again.

Starscream, the pathetic cowardly flyer, Megatron's punchbag, always begging or whimpering on his knees for forgiveness or a second chance- trying again and again to outsmart a warmonger with half-insane plans. Starscream, who played for both teams as long as he thought it would save his worthless plating, who would sacrifice anything and anyone just for his spark to live and see another day...

Starscream. A flyer that could dodge shots from both sides of a war. A mech that collected enemies like it was a game. A flyer that could take Megatron's punishments and defy him again right after. One that had a tongue that talked him out of anything- A traitor to both sides of the war that _still lived._

Ricket could not win from Starscream. Really, he should not even have entertained the thought. He was no Bulkhead, he was no Smokescreen, not even a Ratchet. Smokescreen's stories made it all seem so simple, pull a blaster on the seeker, see him grovel, laugh... Ricket was not a soldier. He had been built for repairing energon dispensers- he was a damned civilian mechanic with a blaster, pitted against a warmachine.

He turned, and ran.

He had only made a few steps before the world suddenly flipped overhead. His systems went haywire, and when they stabilised only a klik later, he was pressed with his faceplate to the ground and a pede digging into his back.

"What oh what did I just step on?" Starscream's foot pressed down on him, and he could feel inferior armour shift and bend as the military model applied more and more pressure. Ricket tried to move up, tried his hardest to push himself off the ground- "A disgusting little earth bug? Oh- no wait..." Sharp claws had seized Ricket's arms, and Starscream forcefully pulled them behind his back. Ricket cried out as his shoulder-joints were pulled to their limit. His spinal strut was pinched cruelly in between the straining systems. His servos were crushed in the seeker's grip, and his forgotten blaster clattered to the ground. Ricket could feel energon running down his arm, and he felt a scream tearing out of his vocaliser. "A filthy Autobot- sneaking away like a coward."

If he had been Smokescreen, this would have been the moment where he would have thrown the insult back at the Con. Ricket could almost hear him say it in that cocky tone; "_You're one to talk Screamy! I've seen your frightened, fleeing tailpipe more than your ugly faceplate!"_And then the Autobot would pull Starscream to the ground by his pede in a whirling move of strength, put a blaster to his faceplate and have the seeker beg for his worthless Decepticon life.

But Ricket wasn't Smokescreen.

"P-please!" He barely recognized his own voice in the high scream that came from his vocal box. "Please, no! Sp-spare me! C-commander!" Starscream likes titled, he liked respect. Ricket tried not to think about the countless times he'd heard of Starscream begging for his 'master' to spare him.

The Decepticon commander laughed with a cracked voice, and tore Ritcket's left underarm off. Ricket's vocaliser broke with his scream as his pain receptors flared up and a tidal wave of warnings washed over his HUD. Pure, undiluted pain was running through his veins instead of energon, and his vocal box could not stop crying. Starscream kicked him in the middle of his back, and Ricket felt something rupture inside of him when the commanders heel broke through his armor. Hot and cold liquids started leaking over his insides.

"I really doubt you have anything to tell me that I would find valuable, filth." Starscream was pulling at his mangled arm, and Ricket cried out in pain. His scream was mixed with a choked sob and followed by a string of pathetic pleas and promises.

Just a few cycles ago he had laughed at the idea of a soldier whimpering and begging for his spark. It was not so humorous now. Starscream's free claw grabbed Ricket by the energon lines in his neck and flipped him onto his back. More things were breaking and ripping, and Ricket felt like he was going to drown in his own energon. He kicked at the Decepticon's legs, but it was useless, his pedes only scrabbling wild lines in the dirt and scraping tiny slivers of paint from Starscream's shin-plating. And he continued begging.

"I'll give you anything! Anything! Please- Please!" Starscream was leaning forward, and the Decepticon's talons were inching towards the vulnerable seam between his chestplates, almost like a caress until the sharp tips started to wiggle their way underneath. Ricket's voice went even higher, his voicebox straining and his frame trembling. "C-communication fr- frequen..frequencies! Gr- grid hundred, encrypted wi- for higher-up. BD-YE-907! T-the codes to the doors, storages! F-five six three four two zero-" Starscreams talons were under his plating, and the Decepticon smiled as the pointed fingertips scraped lightly over Ricket's sparkchamber.

"Not useful enough, filth~..."

"THE BASE! Please- U-under, in the desert in a human settlement- Jasper! JASPER! The base is near Jasper in a human military settle-" The claw dug in deeper and his pain receptors were screaming at him as Starscream's hand came to a rest lightly around his sparkchamber. His vocal processor glitched for a moment and a high strung sound of pain was forcefully squeezed out. "W-w-weak s-s-spot- In the silo- _please_. S-star saber b-b- almost repaired. P-planning a s-trike o-on the N-nemesis. F-five deca-cacycles- P-please, mercy- mercy..." Starscream's servos were not retreating, but rather slowly closing around Ricket's spark chamber. He could _feel _the razor sharp talons touching the chamber as the commander worked his fingers further inside of him.

"N-no- no I t-told you e- e-verything- I- No! P- PLEASE!" Ricket's good arm was grabbing at Starscream, trying to pull the mech's talons out of his torso. The Decepticon only laughed lowly at his efforts as he closed his servo around the sparkchamber, slowly crushing the life inside.

"Hey Screamer!" The servos was abruptly torn from Ricket's chest, and Ricket saw his life flashing before his eyes as the seeker's claws were voilently dragged over his sparkchamber. Ricket recognized Bulkhead's voice over the static in his audio receptors, his own screaming still leaving a ghost imprint in his processor. There were clangs of metal to metal, a screechy voice yelling in pain, and then the sound of a jet blasting away.

Ricket curled weakly onto his side, and a pool of energon ran from the cavity in his chest, joining the energon-drenched forest floor below him. He could see the light of his spark glinting in his own energon, but he was still alive, his spark had not been extinguished. Bulkhead was stomping over to him, and Ricket could hear him mumbling clumsy words of comfort and calling for a groundbridge.

* * *

That cycle he was lying back on one of the medical berths with Ratchet tying his fuel lines back together. His pain receptors were turned off, and with his warning-system down, he had time to think. He did not want to think. Grunch was dead. Platewrench was dead, Brinchfuel... The entire squadron- and he had lived. His breath hitched, and he cried. It was shameful. In the middle of a med-bay surrounded by his wounded fellow soldiers- whom he had betrayed. Starscream hadn't even asked for information, wasn't even trying to torture information out of him, and he'd just cracked. He'd told Starscream anything he thought of, would have told him anything if the mech had asked. Just so he could live, and now that he lived...

Ratchet finished the most damaging of wounds, and took a quick look at Ricket's voicebox. Ricket knew it was fine, but he didn't want to hear himself again. The way he had screamed hadn't been the worst part. The worst part had been that panicked and broken voice in which he had told Starscream every single scrap of important information he had in his memory banks. The voice of a coward, the voice of a Decepticon.

"I betrayed you."

His voice was hollow and monotone, he still could not recognize himself in it. Ratchet had a heavy frown on his face. "I betrayed you." Finally some emotion came through his voicebox, that same shaky broken tone that he had used to beg for his life with. Ratchet still had an entire med-bay full of soldiers to patch up, but the mech's narrowed optics told Ricket that he had been heard.

He betrayed the Autobots. Grunch, Brinchfuel, Platewrench- Mechyn... had it all been for nothing? He could only hope that what he knew was not important. He did not want to die knowing that he had secured victory for the Decepticons.

It was Ultra Magnus that came to interrogate- like he expected. Optimus Prime was too forgiving, too lenient. He had let Ricket join in the fray. If he hadn't, this never would have happened.

"Ricket. Formerly Neutral mechanic, safely returned from five missions... What did you tell them?"

"Everything I could think of." Ricket didn't know what the Autobots did with traitors. There had never really been any that survived in Autobot custody. "The code to our storages. Location of the base... t-the attack planned on the mines... They know about the star saber. I told him everything I had..."

Ultra magnus's faceplate was as flat as stone, and Ricket pulled at the cuffs holding hims frame to the berth. He grabbed at Ultra magnus' arm with his good arm, and again he was begging. "Please- my family. Mechyn, don't make her go. We... she has a sparkling, s-she needs to be safe!" The Autobot commander simply laid a stiff hand on his shoulder. It was a gesture of comfort, but the mech's hand was cold and harsh as it firmly pressed Ricket back onto the berth.

"Optimus will decide on what happens to you. I have faith that your family will be safe. They will not suffer for your fault." He left Ricket on the medical berth. Ricket laid back and let his auto-repair systems work on the scratches that Ratchet had not fixed. He had been prepared to give anything for his life to be extended.

Now he wasn't so sure if it was worth it anymore.

* * *

**This fanfic was made as a tribute to Starscream, because he often seems weak in comparison to all the powerhouses on the battlefield. His cowardice does not help this. I figured that although among the officers he is considered a weak coward, compared to the average footsoldier he is still a force to be reckoned with. **

**Leave a review to let me know what you think. I respond to everything but anonymous reviews, though those are equally welcomed. ^^**


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